


Ain't Love Strange

by pinkstrawberry



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Rare Pairings, Rivalry, Strangers, bbam, i am gonna try not to be angsty, i'm s o f t for bbam i LOVE THEM bye, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 05:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17860778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkstrawberry/pseuds/pinkstrawberry
Summary: It felt like honey was being poured in Bambam’s ears, hearing this man’s silky soft voice. It felt like Bambam wasn’t worthy like he shouldn’t be allowed to listen. It felt wrong, it felt so wrong and he couldn’t pinpoint why exactly but he didn’t want it to stop. He wanted to listen some more, maybe the rest of the day, maybe until the sun sets, maybe until the sun rises again tomorrow, maybe forever, maybe—





	Ain't Love Strange

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi. thank you for visiting. it's truly an honor to have you here. thank you to davi for reading this in advance and basically motivating me to finish the chapter. and thank you to all the bbamnators who have sat in wait for something to pop up in the tags. you all are the real heroes. i hope you keep loving bbam forever and ever. <3
> 
> title from the song Ain't It Strange by Stanaj — a song that didn't inspire this at first but by the end, it definitely gave me bbam feels!

**i.**

_There was a silence that hung in the air as the young boy looked at the elder man with a mix of disdain and horror in his eyes. His plans to escape were all stripped away by one swoop of a maid’s yelling of his name, echoing loud and clear throughout the mansion._

 

_He hated his life, he hated this family, he hated that he had no friends. He was ready to leave — he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone ordering him around and making him study and going to school and wearing a uniform and —_

 

Bambam snaps out of his thoughts when the same older man, seven years older and maybe seven years wiser, calls out his name with a swift yet soft snap of his fingers in front of the younger’s face. Bambam takes a look at him with furrowed brows which are hidden by soft brown bangs and mouth with lips pink as a rose, twisted up as if he had just eaten something bitter. His father, who is still the bossman, still the same old strict, mean grump, focuses on Bambam with a soft gaze, wondering what is going on in his son’s beautiful but strange mind.

 

“I’m talking to you, Bam. Are you listening?” The man seems frustrated with Bambam, the same way it’s been since the fateful day he caught him trying to run away…

 

He isn't listening. Not one bit. He is always on the ready when it came to tuning out Mr. Bhuwakul. The big and mighty, the financial tyrant of South Korea, the richest man in the land.

 

Okay, yeah… so what. His dad founded Hyundai Motors. He makes an inexplicable amount of money by the second. Blah blah. All that ever meant was that Bambam couldn’t just be normal, couldn’t trust just anyone, and now… He needs protection? Hold on.

 

“Wait.” Bambam puts one finger up in the air while they sit in the roomy sitting-room of his father’s ‘home’ if you could call a place of residence that big anything less than a castle. He tilts his head as his deep voice fills the space between him and his father. “What do you mean I need…. protection? Is this some kind of joke you’re pulling right now?”

  
  
The loudest sigh begins to leave his father’s lips as he raises his arms up in surrender. “Your reaction is valid, and I knew there would be some resistance…. You almost got kidnapped, Bam-ah... Do you think that doesn’t worry me? I can’t keep my eyes on you 24/7, it sickens me to know someone out there is trying to harm you, I—”

 

Bambam’s head quickly shakes, making the elder stop trying to explain himself. It was always like this; father always trying to make things work between them, knowing Bambam was without a mother figure his whole life. It made father sad but Bambam was just like his estranged mother in ways he had no ideas about. It’s what worried father.

 

“I don’t need this right now. I just got out of the hospital, can I breathe?” The last four words were spoken in English; sometimes he couldn’t get the words right in Korean, even after spending most of his teenage years being forced tutoring sessions after school.

 

His father looks him straight into his eyes, as Bambam’s fake blue orbs reflect the same energy right back. He isn't scared of his father — in fact, he learned from the best of the best.

  
  
( _Never back down. Not even from me_ , his father had said.)

  
“I’ll let you breathe after you give this a chance. I’ve already found someone for you to meet this afternoon, and he should be here in…” Mr. Bhuwakul deflects his eyes toward the white gold-coated grandfather clock placed fittingly on the wall behind where Bambam was sitting. “....Fifteen minutes.”

 

So Bambam isn’t usually a fussy person. He’s chill, laid-back, he kinda just goes with the flow most of the time. There’s not ever much to fuss at anyways.

 

But this?

 

Bambam, after a beat of a lull, finally speaks up. “You honestly think I’m gonna stay to entertain whoever the hell….. You can’t make me stay.” Grabbing his Balenciaga backpack off the floor from next to his Prada-adorned feet, he stands up and stares at his father. “Nice talk. But it’s a no from me.” This time, it was all in English.

 

But the stubborn will of Bambam didn’t just come from nowhere. Mr. Bhuwakul begins to speak even after Bambam is walking the long walk to the entrance of the home, finally reaching the foyer, his hand going for the doorknob, looking up and —

 

“Oh! Oh. Ow!” Bambam’s head is throbbing, his eyes squeezed shut with his hand pressed against his forehead trying not to be too loud.  Another voice is also heard from right on the other side of the threshold of the house, in a softer voice, a really soft voice, almost honey-like; just a small “ouch” leaves the stranger’s lips, making Bambam tumble backward to finally open one eye in order to not let any tears touch his rosy cheeks.

 

With his fingers still at the point of contact, his skin burning from how hard he hit his head ( _what was that? Not the door? He hit himself with the door? No, he already had the door open, from what he remembers, he was about to walk out when…_ ), he blinks a couple of times and adjusts his vision, looking at the man; he is older than him but not too old, with jet black slicked back hair, black Metallica t-shirt tucked into black dress pants with a G for Gucci belt shining in light of the chandelier of the entryway, his dress shoes luminescent from how impeccably shined they were.

 

“Hey, you okay? We bumped foreheads pretty hard… I’m- I’m sorry.”

 

It feels like honey is being poured in Bambam’s ears, hearing this man’s silky soft voice. It feels like Bambam isn't worthy like he shouldn’t be allowed to listen. It feels wrong, it feels so wrong and he can't pinpoint why exactly but he doesn't want it to stop. He wants to listen some more, maybe the rest of the day, maybe until the sun sets, maybe until the sun rises again tomorrow, maybe forever, maybe—

 

His thoughts are prematurely interrupted by CEO and Founder of Hyundai Motors, scurrying to the scene. “I heard you from all the way in the living room... What happened…?” Bambam tears his eyes away from the stranger in his father’s home, scowling at the elder instead. Following where Bambam was first gazing, Mr. Bhuwakul’s facial expression changes from concerned, to confused, to finally the lightbulb in his head flickering until it is all the way lit.

 

“Ah! I see you’ve met your protection, Bam-ah.” With a smile and a firm exchange of handshakes between the two older men, the stranger’s figure steps forward, just a bit closer to Bambam, making the latter step backward for a beat as his determination to rub at the now swelling bump above his eyebrows becomes more evident. As Bambam’s eyes follow the handshake between his father and the stranger, to finally his face, he could hear his father’s voice, which is definitely not as pleasing or warm as the one he had just heard from the beauty in front of him.

 

“Welcome to our home, Mr. Lim Jaebum.”

 

**ii.**

 

The true essence and mission of Bambam’s soul was to submerge himself in music— something he never really got around to fulfilling, however small his goals were. Bambam has a notebook filled with scribbles and musings and maybe some would claim lyrics. But his confidence was low and if he was to be honest with himself, his real-life experiences and his whole life….is just too underwhelming.

 

 _Just write something, anything_ , his best friend had said.

 

His best friend, Kim Yugyeom.

 

Yugyeom. The musical genius, the hit-making composer of the underground Korean-American hip-hop scene. The one who could write a song in 12 minutes and sing it with full energy and emotion without even trying. That very Kim Yugyeom who told him, _just write a song. It’ll come to you._

 

Bambam was 8 when he realized he had a crush on his best friend. It was harmless and nothing to be afraid of, especially since Yugyeom wasn’t shy about showing Bam that he, too, had a crush back. It was playful and platonic, something Yugyeom called “the squiggles”.

 

“I’m getting the squiggles!” Yugyeom would say when Bam tickled him till they were on the floor rolling around and cackling until Yugyeom’s mother would come into the playroom to make sure they weren’t hurting each other.

 

Even 7 years later, in high school, it was like clockwork — Bambam would drop by Yugyeom’s house every day after school for a quick snack before they decided to go to the abandoned lot only 10 minutes away to practice their handball skills. It became routine and Bambam realized his crush was nothing more than just a deep healthy love for the one person in his life he could relate to on more levels than one.

 

Some may argue that is exactly why Bambam and Yugyeom should have taken the next step to becoming more than friends; most of these questioning arguments came from people who didn’t really know their dynamic. These people were just strangers looking from the outside of a very blurry window, only seeing undefined figures dancing together in the dark.

 

Bambam couldn’t risk hurting Yugyeom. That was always his excuse and it always would be — he isn't worth the pain and definitely doesn't want to lose the only person who would and will stay by his side through the _tough times_ (his dad yelling and screaming over the phone because of several stock market crashes, his older half-brothers teasing him for bringing home fashion magazines, his little half-sister’s friends driving him crazy every two seconds when they came over because they all wanted to play in Bambam’s “man cave”, as he called it).

 

See what he means by his life being underwhelming? Nothing ever interesting ever happens. Until now.

 

“KIM YUGGGYYYEEEOMMM!!!” Bambam yells at his phone screen when he was finally connected to the other line, with a pillow behind his head and an ice pack on the front. He hadn’t seen Kyum, as Bam called him oh so lovingly, in four months — a record. It made Bambam sad although, he knew his friend was busy making record-breaking hits for the likes of AOMG, Hyuna, Hoody, and Bambam’s new favorite group, Loona; all the while having his own collaborations with Dean, Gray and even Zion T. A lot of Yug’s time was spent in meetings with these big names and their managers or in the studio. Bambam liked to think Yug was having a lot of fun, but he knew the latter took his work seriously and was not messing around with his rising music career.

 

“Yoooo, whassup Bam Boi! You good?” Yugyeom stares into his phone trying to figure out why Bambam’s face was practically covered with the whiteness of the ice pack. “Can’t see your face, bro…”

 

Bambam had insisted a while back that they talk in English whenever they could. _I want to get really good and when I come to LA, I just really want to sound cool in front of everyone. Make everybody really proud_ , he had said.

 

That’s all Bambam really wants to do, ultimately. Make everyone proud.

 

“I— Wait.” Bam adjusts himself and sits up, pushing his soft chocolate colored bangs out of his face so that his ice pack could comfortably sit atop his eyebrows instead of taking up real estate everywhere else. “Okay, so… My old man is out of his mind.”

 

The initial short and sweet text message before the FaceTime call that made Yugyeom startle awake from the dead of night out there in Los Angeles, California was just so simple. A code word for when things just weren’t looking so good.

 

**_Kyum… I’m getting the squiggles._ **

 

It was enough for Yugyeom to rub his eyes and get his little butt up and out of bed, ready for a loud but comforting call with Bambam. It’s 1 AM and he has a conference call in 4 hours, but… For his best friend? For his favorite person in the whole wide world? Anything. It’s _97 young and rich_ _forever_.

 

Bambam starts from the beginning; bumping into _him_ , hearing _his_ voice for the first time, having to sit down in his father’s lavish dining room across from this handsome, beautiful _man_ who was now to be his… _bodyguard_.

 

Bambam starts from the beginning but spares Yugyeom the detailed adjectives. He doesn’t need his best friend to tease him over this. Yugyeom always means well, and would never make fun of Bambam for it, but the insecurities had already seeped into Bambam’s mind, as it always does.

 

“Anyways, the point is… What if now I can’t do what I want? It just means I’m gonna have to... What’s the word? Watch me? Watch my actions? Be more… cautious? Kyum, this sucks. I’m TWENTY-TWO.” His index and middle finger go up together at the rhythm of his voice, like a peace sign but with more emphasis.

 

“...(Yes, that’s the word, Bam…),” Yugyeom begins. “Easy, bro… He’s just worried. We talked about this… And anyway, that idiot “friend” of yours, Jungkook… all he ever does is leave you when you all go out. Isn’t that like… not okay? He starts the night with you and then you never see him for the rest of it. If he stayed with you that night, I’m sure none of that crap would have happe—”

 

Yugyeom’s voice suddenly lowers and he never actually finishes the sentence, seeing Bambam’s face on his phone screen suddenly twisting from annoyed at his old man to somber and ashamed of the events that transpired the night of his (almost) kidnapping.

 

“Okay. My point is… I miss you and I know I’ve been too busy to talk nowadays so hearing what happened, I got more worried and you know, it’s difficult to protect you from the other side of this beautiful earth. I think you should give this whole thing a chance.”

 

The eventual smile on Bambam’s face resurfaces at knowing his best friend was missing him just as much as he was. The thought warms his heart, the feeling of his best friend confessing so openly and expressing his love for him. Bam is so glad he had him. If Kyum says to give it a chance, he will. He certainly will.

 

“You’re right, you’re always right. What would I do without you, Kyum?”

 

The question needed no answer.

 

The pair of loudmouths begin to say their goodbyes after catching each other up on what was going on in their lives (it was mostly Yugyeom’s soft voice that echoed through Bam’s old bedroom at his father’s house, telling him of all the music he was ready to put out, in an actual physical album soon; Bambam is so excited and tells him he will buy a hundred copies).

 

Hanging up after several attempts of trying to explain how important his Soundcloud songs actually were to his career to Bambam, Yugyeom finally feels at peace as he got back in bed. There is a danger to his best friend and he can't do anything about it and no matter how much he misses him, he can't just go back to Seoul for Bam. A bodyguard is perfect, he thinks, after putting his phone back on charge and beginning to drift away in otder to sleep his stress away. Finally.

 

**iii.**

 

It is way too early to go to sleep for the other boy, however, still only 9 PM in Seoul with Bambam all of a sudden having enough energy to do all the things ever after thinking about all the possibilities and impossibilities, the pros and cons, of having a bodyguard. Bambam suddenly decides that he was going to be difficult about it.

 

_Maybe… Jaehyun? Jungbum? Can’t believe I already forgot his name… Was I not paying attention? His face was nice. Perfect features. Eyes cat-like and slightly pink-tinted lips always just a bit parted when he’s listening to someone eagerly. Jaebum? Jaebum… Maybe Jaebum will quit if I give him a hard time._

 

Wait. Bambam shakes his head hard, trying to figure out what just happened in his head. Okay, it’s not a crime to think someone’s handsome. The bottom line was this man is being hired to watch his every move. His decision to be the most difficult client for him stands firm in his mind.

 

It isn't like Bambam is gonna get to know him under the surface of what he already knew; that he is gonna be a creep and follow him everywhere he goes. The thought runs through Bambam’s mind over and over until he seriously can't take it. He growls at himself and the situation he realizes he is being forced into, tossing his phone to the other side of his huge California king-sized bed and sits up, looking around his old room.

 

“God, why... Why, me.”

 

From the corner of his eye, Bam sees his phone light up and hopes it wasn’t the group chat trying to make plans for the night. He is not in the mood to go out — the stress from today was enough to eventually tire him out in a couple of hours and Bambam really hates being the party pooper of the crew.

 

_I just got out of the hospital, none of you came to see me, and now you wanna party, go to the club and act like everything is okay… No! Not today._

 

His thoughts are loud and deafening and suddenly he feels a bit sad that none of his “friends” came to the hospital after all. The feeling made his stomach flip as he stretched his long arm to grab his phone. He just wanted peace and quiet for one night this week. Just one.

 

Bambam’s fingers absent-mindedly fiddle with the side of the gadget, trying to get the button to switch to silent before the phone vibrates slightly in his hand again, making his eyes avert to the screen. A number he doesn't recognize glows in his face, the two messages pleading to be read by him. The lock screen picture of his cats stare back at him and he wonders for a minute who it could be.

 

Changing his number was nothing new to Bam, so he ponders a bit, reasoning all the possible persons it could be, before deciding to unlock and read the messages; he has time tonight.

 

+82-2-xxx-xxxx

_9:17 pm_

Hello. This is Lim Jaebum. Sorry to text so late. Wondering if you were free.

 

+82-2-xxx-xxxx

_9:19 pm_

I got your number from your father… It’s okay if now’s not a good time. Just wanted to see if we could get acquainted a bit before I start my job on Monday.

 

The look of horror on Bambam’s face was really truly one to witness as his eyes read the texts over and over— once, twice, three times — to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things. This guy has balls.

 

Did Bambam not give the right signals this afternoon? Sure, they only met like three hours ago and Bambam _was_ staring at every perfectly placed beauty mark there was on Jaebum’s face, but did this man actually think anybody was ever looking forward to having their every move watched and be under supervision like they were back in kindergarten?

 

_I’m not answering this and that old man is gonna pay. Giving out my number and all this…_

 

Well, maybe...

 

Bambam reasons with himself for a moment; if there was one thing he had decided to do was to be reluctant about this whole thing, he was gonna play the role the best he ever could. There was no reason to be friendly but there was no harm in meeting the guy, right?

 

Right.

 

Bambam’s head is still throbbing from the events earlier in the day, getting up to inspect his injury in the body mirror that hung on the door, leaving his phone open and unlocked on the bed, leaving Lim Jaebum on _read_.

 

He’ll answer in a bit. Right now, he needs to change and do something about that hair.

 

_Accessorize, Bam. That’s your only hope for now._

 

His body gravitates toward a door on the other side of the room, opening it to reveal a spacious walk-in closet, with a clearance of 20 meters from where he stands. So many clothes that he left behind before he moved out hung in the spaces a little higher than eye-level to the sides and in the middle were three islands filled with all the iced out jewelry he could have wished for.

 

_Perfect._

 

No, he isn't getting dressed up and fancy for Jaebum. He dresses up for himself and ONLY himself… Impressing people? Not Bambam’s style. There is no reason for him to impress a mere servant.

 

 _Yeah… He works for me now. He’s basically my babysitter but I can still do what I want. I don’t need to watch myself. I don’t need to do anything but_ be _myself._

 

Bambam concludes that he isn't intimidated nor is he going to be ordered around by Jaebum, or anyone for that matter. This is just temporary. He will make sure of it.

 

Closing the door of his unnecessarily big closet carefully, Bam walks toward the bed again, picking up his phone and opening the message, waiting for a beat until his fingers tap on the keyboard of the touch screen.

 

Me

_9:47 pm_

yeah, alright. I’m free now. let’s meet in 15 mins at kitty’s lounge.

 

After pressing send, and after the butterflies ( _the butterflies? Is that the right term for what this feeling is…? Isn't he just nervous? To see that handsome, really beautiful man again…_ ) in his stomach settle down, Bambam grabs his black bomber jacket and lifts it over his small frame, deciding firmly that he was going to set the tone for this relationship.

 

_I’m the boss. I’m the best. You listen to me. You’re in my world now._

 

In the back of his mind though, Bambam also can't wait to hear Lim Jaebum's sweet, gentle voice penetrate his ears like a soft lullaby. Maybe he _is_ ready to be a boss, but maybe, in the most inner crux of his heart, he knows he is just... a baby, ready to be protected, like he was always meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> sooo...yes. finally. my first work which I literally can't believe I've posted for other people to read, oh gosh PEOPLE DO THAT....? ugh, please, I have nothing much else to say except that I really hope you guys enjoyed this short tease of a chapter, that should have been longer but i'm.....not about that life and was impatient to share it with you guys, whoever you angels are reading this. bbam are my favorite babies in the whole universe and I truly hope I serve them justice. I will try to update as quickly as I can <3 thank you so much for reading, honeys >__< mwuah!


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